The Chlorine Comeback
by singingstarryknights
Summary: “You’ll get back the butterfly, Eric. It’ll come, with time.” Spoilers for everything. CalleighEric.


The Chlorine Comeback

…

"You'll get back the butterfly, Eric. It'll come, with time."

…

CalleighEric

…

The building that housed the competition pools at the University of Miami seemed abandoned as Calleigh slipped in through the side door. She figured it was the dead of night hour that had the corridors deserted, but as she peered through the glass doors to the poolroom, she mused that it could have been the uneasy tension swirling among the chlorine in lane 17. Her heart broke as she watched a few tentative strokes, the muscles in Eric's back were a familiar sight, but the motion of his body through the water had changed. His confidence had disappeared, making way for the uncertainty of a novice swimmer.

He was teaching himself to swim again.

Heavy tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she attempted to push them away, drying the hot trails with her fingers as she stepping through the doorway, and walked quietly along the edge of the pool. The lights had been left off, save for the lane lights along the wall of the pool, casting a glow on the walls behind her that wriggled with the movements Eric made in the water. She easily spotted his beat up slide sandals, lying haphazardly beneath the bench holding a balled up towel, a distinctive MDPD sweatshirt, and the dark blue of the athletic pants he wore when he swam.

Calleigh turned slowly, watching Eric as he stopped in the middle of the lane, and stood, stretching for a moment before curling back into the water, his calves and feet breaking the surface as he balanced on his hands. Eric flexed his crafted muscles in a practiced manner, cartwheeling over and rounding forward, picking up what she recognized as a rough butterfly stroke as he continued, failing to notice her, having faced the opposite wall throughout.

She moved to the bench, reaching out to touch the soft terrycloth of the towel before picking it up, and meandering to the edge of the pool, watching him curl beneath the surface of the water, somersaulting and propelling off the tile of the pool, slithering his body like a tadpole for several yards before breaking the still surface with an uneasy curve, moving into a front crawl in slow motion, heading back towards her. Calleigh sat down on the cool cement, folding her legs into a crisscross position, dropping the towel beside her.

He used to fly through the water, had consistently held a speed competitive to that of Ian Thorpe, who had medaled in numerous Olympics. He used to make her weary just watching him, made her groan when he moved so gracefully, manipulating the sport of swimming to an art. He made it seem incredibly easy. The one time he coaxed her into the water, however, she discovered it was anything but.

Eric curled into another somersault, pushing off the tiles before her, and cutting through the water again, attempting the butterfly once more, his motions slow and deliberate. The halting, jerking, unnatural movements of his arms and legs told her he was struggling to remember; that thinking about swimming had proved to be difficult, after more than a decade of each stroke coming to him as easily as breathing.

The doctor had told him he could get back in the pool a week or so after he felt comfortable enough to return to work. Part of her began to entertain the thought that he had come back to the lab so early because he had so desperately wanted to get back in the water. She was amazed the pool was open at 2:30 in the morning, but then again, this was Eric's beloved alma mater, and she was almost certain all he had to do was flash his bright smile, and he could have the keys to the building. Years ago there had been rumors that he had been involved in a torrid affair with one of the diving coaches, back when he was still in underwater recovery and she had been a fresh face in the lab. The lingering effects of that particular romantic adventure, she assumed, was the additional set of keys on his key ring, and his knowledge of the security codes.

She sighed heavily, realizing that the world above the surface had fallen away from him, and it could be any number of hours before he noticed she was perched on the edge of the lane. Thankful she had slipped on a pair of running shorts before leaving her apartment, Calleigh kicked off her loosened sneakers, submerging her bare legs into the tepid water, watching the pool light glitter through the chlorine, casting curves of shadows along the pale coloring of her calves and feet. He tunneled back towards her mechanically; missling his body almost the entire length of the lane before noticing her legs dangling in the water. He slowed instantly, letting the chlorinated water absorb his inertia, his body coming to a stop a few feet from the edge of the lane. She watched a few air bubbles hesitantly come to the surface before he stood, pulling the goggles from his eyes and taking a few steps toward her, tossing them onto the towel and meeting her gaze.

"How'd you find me?" He rubbed his face tiredly, wiping the water from his features. He spoke quietly, but his words rippled easily through the empty poolroom. She tilted her head to the side, smiling warmly at him, the blonde held back in a casual ponytail tumbling over her shoulder as she shrugged.

"A hunch." He nodded, visibly relaxing, his lip curving into a halfhearted smile. "How are you feeling?" She reached out, pushing droplets of water off his brow with a delicate touch.

"Better, I guess." He sighed, wading into the space between her knees, placing his hands along the cement ridge of the pool, on either side of her thighs, flexing the muscles in his arms and back. "I haven't fumbled through the butterfly like that since I was in the seventh grade."

"Recovery isn't made overnight, Eric." She leaned forward on her hands, bringing her head inches from his. "These things take time. Especially when you rush them."

"Not you, too, Cal." He groaned, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Dr. Parker said I could get back in the pool after I went back to work. I'm back at work, now, so I get to be back in the pool." She rolled her eyes, running a hand over his newly buzzed hair, springing a few droplets free.

His breath hitched in his chest as her calves brushed against his sides, stepping closer and leaning against the tiled wall of the pool as she locked her ankles together at his back. He leaned into her touch, laying his head in her lap as her fingers found the raised scar behind his ear, marking the entry wound the bullet had made. Calleigh smiled the beginnings of an amused smirk when his arms released the ledge of the pool, winding around her body. They stayed like that for several minutes, relief flooding through Calleigh's insides as the tension in his shoulders scattered under her touch and his expression became peaceful, even as his arms tightened around her.

"I made mistakes." He mumbled, breaking the silence easily, his thumb slipping up under the hem of her sweatshirt.

"We caught them, it's okay." She smiled softly as she watched his eyes flutter shut as she ran her thumb reassuringly over his hair. "No one's perfect, Eric." He shifted, lifting his head from her lap and nodded, moving a hand to her knee, gripping her leg like it was the only way to remain grounded. Somewhere, she figured it probably was. He propped his head up on his free hand beside her other leg, his attention caught by the effect his feather light touch had on her thigh, causing a trail of goose bumps along her pale skin. The space in the poolroom sparked with intimacy acutely, and Eric let out a breath carefully, wading into a whole other kind of water.

"I don't want to lose my badge."

"You won't."

"Or you."

"You won't lose me, either." He closed his eyes, cringing at the sweetened affection as she pressed a kiss to his head, her lips lingering for several seconds before she pulled back, the tears making her eyes sparkle in the warped shadows of the lights beneath the surface of the water. Her constricted sob echoed sharply in the enormous room, and her hand came to her mouth, stifling it. He straightened, giving her a questioning look, but she shook her head, attempting to dismiss his concern.

"Calleigh-"

"We thought you had died, Eric." She curled down to him, touching her forehead to his, unable to stop crying. "It came over the shortwave, like an ABP. 'Officer down, possible 419.'" He frowned, reaching up to brush away her tears. "Ryan and I were almost to the hospital when they identified you on the radio, Eric. Dispatch announced it like they were telling us the weather. Ryan panicked, and I had to keep it together, I was driving, but he had to grab the wheel, my hands were shaking so badly. The cars on the road, they were blurs, I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't speak. We barely made it through losing Tim, and we only survived because we had each other. I couldn't lose you, too."

"I'm okay, Cal. I'm right here."

"For almost twenty minutes, I thought you had left me all alone. I've never been so scared in my life." Her voice had diminished to a whisper, hoarse and heavy with worry and fear.

He had always suspected Calleigh Duquesne had the capacity for such emotions, but their presence on her usually calm, collected features frightened him, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, forearms flat against the cement edge of the lane, crashing his lips into hers. After a moment, he asked permission, tilting his head to the side and pulling at her lip when she let him in.

Eric gasped into her as he felt her hand along either side of his neck, the delicate touch of her finger against the rigid, ugly scar sending warm, rounded feeling down his body, seeping into the water, saturating the air. He shifted again, kissing her harder, encouraged by the sound of the water sloshing around lazily as her legs moved, tightening around him, and the feel of her pulse quickening where her wrist lay against the skin of his shoulder. She felt the muscles in his back tense, and she pulled away, breaking their kiss, offering him a gentle smile.

"Vamenos. I'll drive you home." She kissed him again, abruptly, before pulling her legs out of the water and scooting back, climbing to her feet as he pulled himself out of the pool easily, the deep navy of the racing suit that ran from his hips to his ankles outlining the definition in his muscles. She had seen him in swimming gear a thousand times, from pulling bodies out of the glades to investigating wrecks of yachts sunk to make evidence disappear, to the occasional qualifying round at the state championships that he participated in just to keep him fresh.

It wasn't the suit that rattled her, really. Though, it did provide a pretty good view. She chuckled, walking over to the bench and snatching up his sweatshirt and running pants, holding them out to him as he swapped her for the towel, watching her wipe the chlorine off her legs before slipping her sneakers back on her bare feet. She was beautiful, in the rippling, wavy glow of the pool lights. He pulled his pants up to rest along his hips, thrusting his arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt, realizing how tired he was for the first time in hours.

"A que hora es?" He mumbled, rubbing at his eye with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"Three in the morning." She crossed to his side, the trails of dried chlorine creating traction for her sneakers. "C'mon." She tugged gently at his arm, but he paused, pulling her back to him. He swept his gaze around the darkened poolroom, darting his tongue to wet his lip, his eyes settling on a series of championship banners along the far wall. She waited a moment before slipping her hand into his. "What?"

"These championships. These titles." He gestured to the hanging banners, proudly announcing championship elite throughout the seventies, eighties, and nineties, in varying degrees of wear, showing age. "'92, third leg of the two hundred meter medley relay Placed first. '93, 50-meter butterfly and 100-meter butterfly. '94 was individual medley and the 100-meter breaststroke. My senior year I won the 50-meter butterfly and the 100-meter butterfly, and I was the third leg in the freestyle relay. We placed second."

"Wonder what stroke was your favorite." Calleigh smiled sweetly.

"It is the most beautiful." He let go of her hand, pulling the front of his pants and suit down a few inches, exposing a patch of skin that had been lightened, due to lack of sunshine. Nestled delicately in the hollow of his hip, against the feathering of darker hair, was the Hurricane logo of his beloved alma mater, wrapped around the wings of a butterfly. She would have teased him, had the sight of such a feminine image not startled her, the intimate placement and his willingness to expose it to her not caused a heat below her stomach. Calleigh stepped closer, reaching out and running her finger along the faded ink, eliciting a throaty groan from him.

"I didn't know this was here." There was surprise lacing her voice, and Eric grinned, pulling her frame to his, into a companionable hug, gripping her shoulders as her arms wove snugly around his waist, her ear against his chest. "You'll get back the butterfly, Eric. It'll come, with time."

"And practice." He dropped his head to hers, closing his eyes. "It's been my constant, you know? Through everything. My father's disappointment. My sister's illness, and death." His voice wavered, and she rubbed his back soothingly, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Let me be your constant. Let me help." She spoke softly, pulling back just enough to catch his eye. "We can get through this, Eric." The compassion in her expression broke his resolve, and he nodded, blinking away tears that had snuck up on him, settling heavily in his chest. He didn't have to be the hometown hero with her. He didn't have to be the tough native.

He accepted the kiss she offered eagerly, letting her set the pace, breaking down the barriers of the job, getting high on the mixture of the sweetened taste of her affection, and the comforting scent of chlorine. Her hand slipped up, gripping the front of his sweatshirt with a balled fist, holding him down against her. He dropped his arms, tightening his grip along her waist. He leaned into her, making her almost stumble back, catching her deftly, laughing into their kiss as she began to chuckle. They broke apart a few moments later, quickly catching their breath, Calleigh's smile reflecting in the sparkle in Eric's eyes.

She was right. He knew it. She always was. They needed each other.

"Let's go home."

"Okay."


End file.
